Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1887-01-20
The Haunted Chamber.
BY "THE DUCHESS. F"
CHAPTER y.

dies, and twilight descendS. Even that
too departs. and now darkness falls up
on the distressed household, and still
there is no news of Sir Adrian.
Arthur DynecOurt, who is already
beginning to be treated with due re-
Spect as the next heir to the barOnetcy,
has quietly limited to old Lady FitzAl-
mont that perhaps it will be as well, in
the extraordinary circumstances, if
they all take their departure. This the
old lady, though strongly diSlnclined
to quit the castle, is debating in her
own mind, and, being SWayed by Lady
Gertrude, who is secretly rather bored
by the dizziness that has enSued on the
strange absence of their host, decides
to leave on the morrow, to the great
distress of both Dora and Florence Del
maine, who shrink from deserving the
castle while its masters fate is undoci-
ded. But they are also sensible that,
to remain the only female guests,
would be to outrage the cOnyentiOnali-
ties.
Henry Villiers, Ethel's father, is also
Of opinion that they should all quit the
castle without delay. He is hunting
man, an NJ. T. II. in his own county,
and is naturally anxious to get back to
his own quarters some time before the
nuntlng-SeaSOn commences. Some 9TH.
erS have already gone, and altogether
1t seems to Florence that there is no
other course open to her but to pack up
and desert him, whom she loves. in the
hour Of his direSt need. For there are
moments even now when she tells her
self that he is still living, and only
waiting for saving hand to drag him
into smooth waters once again.
A silence has fallen upon the house
more mechanically than tho lDJJ1pct Nv
preston of grief The servants are
conyersing over their supper III fright
ened whispers, and cOnjecturing mood
lily as to the fate of their late master.
To them Sir Adrian is indeed dead, if
not buried.
In the servants corridor strange
dull light is being flung upon the pol
IShed boards by hanging-lamp that is
burning dimly, as though oppressed by
the dire evil that has fallen upon the
old castle. No sound is to be heard
here in this spot, remote from the rest
of the house, where the servants sell
dom come except to go to bed, and
never indeed without an inward Shud-
der as they pass the door that leads to
the haunted chamber.
Just now, being at their supper. there
is no fear that any Of them will be
about, and so the dimly lighted CORR
dor is wrapped i'll an unbrOken silence.
Not quite unbrOken, however. What
is this that strikes upon the ear? What
sound comes to break the unearthly
stiffness? A creeping fOotstep, a eau
tlouS tread, sinking, hating, uncer-
tain motion, belonging surely to some
one who sees an enemy, a spy III every
fitting shadow. Nearer and nearer it
comes now into the fuller glare of the
lamp-llght, and stops short at the door
SO dreaded by the castle servants.
Looking uneaSily around him, Ar
thur DyneCOurt-fOr it is he-unfast-
ems the door, and, entering hastily, clO-
SeS 1t firmly behind him, and aSConds
the staircase within. There is no halt
ing In his footsteps now, no uncertain
ty, no caution, only haste that betOk-
ems desire to get his errand over as
quick as possible.
Having gained the first landing, he
walks slowly and on tiptOe again, and,
creeping up the stone stairs, crOucheS
down SO as to bring his ear on a level
with the lower chink of the door.
Alas, all is still; no faintest groan
can be heard! The silence of Death is
all around. In spite of his hardihood,
the cold sweat of fear breaks out upon
Dynecourt'S brow; and yet he tells him
self that now he is satisfied, all is well.
his victim is secure, is beyond the pow
er of words or kindly search to recall
him to life. He may be discovered now
as soon as they like. Who can fix the
fact of his death upon him? There is
no blow, no mark of violence to crimi-
nate any one. He is safe, and all the
wealth he had SO coveted is at last his
own!
There is something fiendish in the
look of eXultatiOn that lights Arthur
lVT0 20 To hny oD1I I'LL
lantern with him, and now it reveals
the vile glance of triumph that fires his
eyes. He would fain have entered to
gaze upon his victim, to assure himself
OF his victory, but he refrainS. A dead
ly fear that he may not yet be quite
dead keeps him back, and. with a
frOWn, he prepares to descend once
more.
Again he listens, but the sullen roar
of the rising night wind is all that can
be heard. His hand shakes, his face
assumes liVid hue, yet he tells him
self that surely this deadly silence is
better than he listened to last night
Then ghOStly moaning, almost inces-
SAINT and unearthly in sound, had
pierced his brain. 1t was more like the
cry OF a dying brute than that of a
man. Sir Adrian slowly starved to
death! In his own mind Arthur can
see him now, worn, emaciated, lost to
all likeness of anything fair or cOmely.
Have the rats attacked him yet? As
this greWsOme thought presents itself,
Dynecourt rises quickly from his
crouching position, and, flying down
the steps, does not stop running until
he arrives in the corridor below again.
He dasheS into this like one possess
sed; but, finding himself in the light of
the hanging lamp, collects himself by
violent effort, and looks around.
Yes, all is still. No living form but
his is near. The corridor, as he CLAN
ces affrightedly up and down, is empty.
He can see nothing but his own shad-
ow, at sight of which he starts and
turns pale and Shudders.
The next moment he RECEIVERS him.
self, and, muttering an anathema upon
his cOwardice, he moves noiselessly to-
ward his room and the brandy-bottle
that has been his constant companion
of late.
Yet, here in his own room, he can
not rest. The hours 90 nv with 1appard